Lovely
by shadie24601
Summary: Jean-the poet/hopeless romantic with a knack for getting beaten up, and Èponine- the bird with a broken wing, in desperate need of a friend, or just someone to listen to her. Will they be able to help each other get through the trials of life when at last their paths cross? Rated T for swearing(mainly)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Hey peeps! This idea has been eating at me for awhile and I just had to write it down. I know it's a clumsy first chapter, but I wanted to make Jean a bit different from how everyone else depicts him-after all, who's to say it's the right depiction? Anywho, please read and review! :)**

**Disclaimer: Ok, guys, I obviously don't own Les Miserables, but I also have no claims to any of the other poetry written by Emily Dickinson, Hugo, Poe, or whoever else I choose to quote. Kinda obvious.**

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"Be like a bird, who, halting in his flight on a limb too slight, yet sings, knowing he has wings." -Victor Hugo.

Jehan sighed as he sat in the school's garden and flitted through the pages of his favorite anthology book, its creased pages stocked full with poems and stories from the best of the best-Victor Hugo, Emily Dickinson, Shakespeare, even a few from the eccentric Edgar Allen Poe, etc.

He stopped at his current favorite poem by Emily Dickinson.

_If I can stop one heart from breaking,  
I shall not live in vain;  
If I can ease one life the aching,  
Or cool one pain,  
Or help one fainting robin  
Unto his nest again,  
I shall not live in vain_

.-**Emily Dickinson**

If that wasn't something to live by, he didn't know what was. He felt a smile play at his lips as he read over the familiar text, but winced before he could actually break into a grin. He brought his hand up to feel the cut on his lower lip, then brought it down again to see if any blood from the cut had gotten onto his fingers-it had, proving it hadn't dried yet.

He groaned. He'd gotten so lost in his poetry book he'd almost forgotten why he'd sought refuge in it in the first place.

He figured he should be used to it now-the bullying, that is-but he couldn't just submit and let Montparnasse's little gang have the satisfaction of knowing he'd finally given up.

Every time 'Parnasse or one of his drone groupies made a snide remark or sneered at his fashion sense, his long braided hair, or especially if they said something about his friends, he always ended up going on the attack, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them.

He wouldn't hit anyone-no, never. Jehan couldn't understand how anyone could purposely hurt another person. Rather, he'd always be ready with a small quip or a muttered comeback that _always_ seemed to tick off one of the gang members, earning him nothing except a string of curses aimed at him-_fag! Shithead! Fuckass!-_and a new bruise or cut to his growing collection.

To the untrained eye, Jehan looked weak and feeble-this was partially true, you couldn't say much for him in a fight-however, he was certainly not weak at heart. He was a mouse that could roar like a lion when provoked.

Sadly, a mouse is still a mouse, and against a menacing predator, it doesn't stand a chance. Jehan's injuries were proof of this.

This most recent one was from earlier that day in fourth period Science. He hated Science. He'd had the misfortune of being seated next to Brujon, one of Parnasse's little-well, not so little-followers for a week-long group project.

Brujon had inevitably made Jehan do all the work. (Then again, it's not like he could've helped if he'd wanted to.) Still, with nothing to do for the rest of the period, he decided to entertain himself by pestering Jehan, who was working diligently on the project.

Jehan had managed to ignore Brujon for majority of the class period, but he was like a buzzing fly-getting louder and more annoying by the second.

"Hey Dick!" Brujon prodded. He breaking into a series of rough cackles. "How's the project going, Dick?"

Really? He couldn't even come up with a better insult?

When Jehan didn't respond, Brujon spoke again.

Jehan remembered vaguely wondering if Brujon was high as the hefty teen broke into a fit of seriously creepy giggles. "You're a Pussy!"

That's when Jehan rolled his eyes and muttered, "Make up your mind."

Brujon immediately flushed bright pink in anger and embarrassment, and Jehan had watched Brujon's fists curl into balls as he'd thought: _Here we go again._

Needless to say, that was the story of how Jehan ended up with a nasty gash on his lip and a bruise forming on his jaw. Jehan found it mind-boggling how stupid these thugs were-they reacted to even the smallest thing with fierce violence.

Still, Jehan couldn't find it in his heart to hate them. After all, he knew they probably had their reasons, however unreasonable they were.

"Hello?"

Jehan was jolted out of his thoughts by the voice. Confused, he looked up into the eyes of a dark, scruffy-haired girl about his age.

She stared at him curiously and hesitantly, like she wanted to say something, then with a tinge of concern when she noticed the wounds on his face. She didn't say anything though, and instead continued to study his face with her piercing brown eyes.

Then he realized he'd seen her before. She was in his third period Language Arts class; he always her saw sitting at the very back of the class, melting into the shadow of the corner and going unnoticed by everyone. Everyone except him, that is.

He suddenly realized he hadn't replied and quickly choked out, "Oh, h-hi!"

She smiled lightly.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but, um, this is…" She looked down at her feet as if slightly embarrassed, "This is my tree."

Jehan blinked a few times. He looked up at the tree, then at the school that he had left from for fifth period lunch break-he usually ate in the cafeteria, but today he had desperately needed to sort his thoughts, and had wandered into the school's garden. He looked back at the girl, not really understanding what she meant.

"Beg your pardon?"

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**So...Tell me what you think? X)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Guys, this chapter I was forced to write a poem, and I apologize because I am well aware of my incapability to write poems, especially at 3 in the morning, but I had to get the story moving. It gets better, I promise! Please read and review!**

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The girl cocked her head to the side and looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world before gesturing to tree. "That's my tree. Well, I always eat my lunch here."

Jehan felt like an idiot. Of course that's what she was saying. He quickly started gathering his things, dropping one or two before hastily picking them up again.

"Sorry! S-sorry, I didn't know. I don't usually come out here…" He rambled as he continued gathering his stuff-consisting of his school backpack, several loose homework pages, his poetry book, and a few other books he always carried around.

She didn't reply, and instead knelt down next to where he was crouched, picking up some homework that kept falling out of his hands, and took the poetry anthology from his hands.

He was about to protest as she started to flip through the pages, but then he saw her eyes light up as she broke into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. He unconsciously found himself yearning to smile along with her, but refrained because of his cut lip.

Instead, he decided to strike up a conversation.

"U-um, you're a fan of these poets?" He stammered, looking up at her sheepishly.

She bit her lip and grinned slightly. "Can you tell?"

Jehan couldn't help but get excited. "Really? Which one? My favorite's-wait, I can't choose, they're all brilliant! Have you read this one? Or this one?"

He took the book back and started pointing at different poems excitedly.

The messy-haired girl laughed at his enthusiasm, which only grew every time she told him she knew that poem. And that one. Yes, that one too.

Suddenly Jehan realized how strange this was. Like really, though, he didn't even know the girl's name. Well, that would be a start.

Jehan stopped his enthusiastic rambling and turned to the girl, who was now smiling in amusement and-unless he was mistaken-a touch of eagerness. When had they sat down? Never mind that, he needed to know her name. She beat him to it.

"So, what's your name?" She elbowed him playfully, accidentally hitting a bruise Jehan had acquired after someone had called Courfeyrac, a friend of his, a manwhore behind his back, and Jehan had defended him.

Jehan hissed sharply and brought a hand to his rib. The girl's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard!"

Jehan quickly waved it off. "No, no, you're good, I….just accidentally ran into a…gate earlier, "Wow, for all his time spent reading he sure sucked at making up excuses.

She raised an eyebrow at his obvious lie.

"Anyways, I'm Jean Prouvaire-my friends call me Jehan." He stuck out his hand, which she promptly shook in a surprisingly firm handshake for such a small girl.

"I'm Éponine Jondrette. Nice to meet you, random guy who stole my tree spot." She teased. He smiled-he couldn't help it-and cursed as he felt his cut, which had finally started to dry, reopen. He looked at her shyly, fiddling with one of the flowers he'd braided into his long hair (don't ask, they were pretty and matched with his floral patterned jeans. Enough said).

"Um, you don't happen to have a band-aid on you? My cat scratched me earlier…"

She rolled her eyes and started rummaging through her faded purse, saying, "Oh, come off it, love, no one's gonna believe that story while it's the middle of the school day and the cut's still fresh. I suppose your cat also gave you that nasty bruise on your jaw. Here."

She handed him a band-aid as Jehan blushed, embarrassed to have been caught. Instead of replying, he changed the subject while sticking the band-aid on the part of the cut that wasn't on his lip.

"I've seen you before. You're in my Language Arts class, right? When I was bored that period-which I admit wasn't often (Language Arts rocks)-I would write poems about you."

Jehan immediately regretted letting that last part slip when he saw her mouth hanging open, eyes wide.

"Sorry! I don't mean to be creepy or anything, honest! I'm actually a really nice person!...I think….Anyways, I just kinda saw you sitting there and I just, you know, started writing shit down. Nothing special, just some random words. Sorry!"

Éponine blinked.

"You really wrote something about me?" Jehan blushed and nodded. She smirked, an almost unnoticeable blush powdering her cheeks.

"Show me."

Jehan immediately acquiesced, not wanting her to think he'd refused to show her because he'd written something perverted or something like that. He pulled out his signature blood red journal and sifted through it, picking the first one about her he saw.

"It's not good, just my thoughts put onto a page…" He mumbled as she took the journal from him and proceeded to read the scribbled text.

**_"She is wounded, she is trapped_**

**_Someone let her out_**

**_The life she led_**

**_The love she had_**

**_It makes her want to shout. _**

**_The shadows envelope her frame_**

**_The walls are closing in_**

**_Yet not to notice one like her_**

**_It seems to me a sin."_**

When she finished reading, she looked up in confusion.

"'_The love she had'_?." She looked down. "How...How did you know about that?"

Jehan shuffled slightly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop, but I really like observing people, and, well, Marius is in our Language Arts class and I couldn't help but notice how you looked at him." Nice move, Jehan, showing her a crappy poem revealing the fact that you know about her unrequited love for Marius-he and Marius were sorta friends- I mean, that's not rude or strange at all.

"It's good."

Jehan's head shot up in disbelief. "R-really? I mean, it's a free-verse poem so it may not have good pattern, and some of the lines are presumptuous (for which I apologize), and-and…" Éponine smiled at his frantic display.

"Jehan, it's good. I mean, it's better than anything I could write anyway-though that doesn't say much. I can't write a poem for shit-I don't mind you observing."

"Really, you don't?" Jehan questioned the last part of her sentence.

She sighed slightly. "Well, it's not that I don't mind, it's that you didn't know so I'll forgive you this one time. Next time, though, write about how awesome I am. No, seriously. But how about we get to know each before writing any more poems about me, kay? Oh yeah, and next time you have to tell me about that dreadful 'cat' of yours so we can do something about it." She ended with a wink as the bell tolled, announcing the end of lunch.

Éponine was gone before Jehan even had time to respond.

Jehan silently leaned against "Éponine's tree" and found himself humming-something he only did when he was excited or happy. He decided to skip next period, since it was study hall, and instead sat remembering what had just transpired, and forgot all about his most recent injuries as a smile graced his pretty face.

If it was anything like their first meeting, "Next time", which he silently hoped would be soon, would certainly be interesting.

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**Well, that wasn't awkward at all. I know Éponine was slightly OOC, but aren't we all sometimes?**


End file.
